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“It was a six-thousand-dollar bottle of wine, kitten.” He signs the paper slip without hesitation. “And the gratuity and sommelier fees are included.”
“I didn’t even finish my glass.” I reach for it, but Grant lightly grabs at my wrist.
“And you aren’t going to.” He pulls me from the booth. “Dinner is over, which means so is your break.”
With his hand possessively resting on the small of my back, he leads me through the restaurant and obtains my jacket from the coat check. Slipping it up my arms and over my shoulders, he places a soft kiss against the side of my neck. “I’m look forward to finally getting you out of this dress.”
Stepping from the restaurant, I’m surprised that the limousine isn’t waiting for us.
“Nikolai has some private suites next door. They are nicer than any hotel in town, and where I prefer to stay when I come here.”
Grant surprises me in the elevator. Even though empty, his hand simply remains comfortingly on the small of my back. The doors open, letting us directly into the main area of the suite.
It’s fucking beautiful.
As I take in the white marble floors, floral arrangements, and art decorating the walls, Grant slides my coat from my shoulders and places it folded over the arm of a nearby chair.
“Oh my god! That has to be the most impressive reprint I have ever seen.” I cross the room to get a closer look, nearly squealing when I stand inches from it. “Is this? Is this a fucking Pollock?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this excited about anything.” Grant stands behind me and peppers kisses down my neck while I fight the urge to touch the work of art before me.
“Grant. Sir,” I correct myself. “This is Number 17. The closest I’ve ever come to seeing a Pollock was from about ten feet away at the Museum of Modern Art.”
Pulling the zipper at the back of my dress, he slips the straps from my shoulders and lets it fall from my body. Leaving me in nothing but my heels as I stare at the painting before me. His hands roam over my body while I continue to stare at the Pollock in awe.
A nip at my shoulder draws my attention back to Grant and the warm, wet kisses he’s leaving on my neck. His teeth graze my ear lobe, and he whispers, “Do you intend to stare at this paintingall night? Or are you going to join me in the other room where I intend to make you a work of art?”
Taking my hand, he leads me from the painting. My heels click on the marble floor as I follow him into the bedroom. Laid at the edge of the ornate, Medieval style bed are numerous strands of black jute.
Undoing the first strand, he makes quick work of tying an intricate chest harness. He kneels before me and ties another bundle of jute around my waist and thighs. Climbing onto the bed, he tosses two of the remaining ropes over the rails of the canopy above and connect them with large metal clips.
Grant holds out his hand for me. When I slip my hand into his, he pulls me onto the bed and promptly secures one of the metal clips to a loop on the ropes running over my chest. He clips another to a loop below my stomach. A quick tug of the rope, another metal clip and Grant has me suspended above the bed. Grabbing the last section of rope, he binds my ankles and wrists to the ropes running around my thighs. When he’s done, I hang helpless, all of me on display for him to admire and use as he pleases.
Just as he said.
He gives me a gentle tap, leaving me swaying in the ropes as he climbs from the bed. Viewing me from all angles, he smiles with contentment and removes his clothes.
“Fucking perfection.” He stoops below my line of vision, and I hear him rustling through the leather bag that would be at his feet. When he returns to me on the bed, he is holding a stainless plug and a small bottle of lube.
Stepping between my parted thighs, he squeezes lube over the plug and teasingly works it inside my ass. Once situated, he toys with it a little as his tongue flicks at my fully exposed clit. His mouth between my thighs hard, soft, teasing, and brutal—as he repeatedly changes the pace of his licking and sucking with each orgasm he forces from me. Writhing and tugging at the ropes binding me, I scream as he painfully makes me come again.
“Are you ready for my cock, kitten?” Grant stands and aligns himself with my entrance. His tip presses against me as my thighs continue to tremble uncontrollably. Without waiting for an answer, he slams into me.
So fucking full with both him and the plug filling me.
Using the ropes wrapped around my hips and the suspension to his advantage, he fucks me hard. Each thrust more savage than the last. My whole body shakes in the swing made of ropes, tears of pleasure rolling down my face as another wave of euphoria begins to creep within my reach.
“That’s it.” His grunted words rattle between his thrusts as my orgasm tears through me, “Squeeze that tight, little cunt around my cock so I can paint my masterpiece.”
Pulling me tight, he buries himself to the hilt as he fills me with his cum.
Still catching my breath, he lowers me to the bed and makes swift work of removing all of the ropes from me. Lying against me, his lips pressed against my temple, his fingers trace the temporary divots in my flesh from the ropes.
I struggle against the heaviness of my eyelids, but Grant has fucked me well beyond exhaustion today. His deep voice vibrates against my skin, but I’m unable to comprehend his words.
“What?” The mumbled word passes my lips as I drift off to sleep.
